The Aerovons - Song for Jane (1969)

Here we are. The final installment of the week long special, featuring stories from Tom Hartman of The Aerovons. In case you've missed it, Tom has been kind enough to share stories with us about when his band was fortunate enough to meet The Who, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and John Lennon! You can find all of the stories, as well as previous stories submitted by '60s musicians, on our Exclusive Stories page.

The song found below Tom's story comes from the B-Side of The Aerovons' single released in 1969. It's A-Side, "The Train," can be heard here. The song was also released on the group's album, Resurrection, recorded in 1969 and released in 2003.

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A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 5 of 5
As mentioned yesterday, this story is the fourth story to occur when speaking chronologically. Yesterday's story involving John Lennon was the last story to take place, but this story was chosen to be shared last because, in my opinion, it's the best story. So for one final time, here's Tom:

The Boys
In 1968, at some point after we had our momentous meetings with Paul at Speakeasy Club and then George at EMI Studios, we all packed up and went back to the States. The commitment by EMI was to do a record, but they wanted us to go back home and spend the winter writing music. They would have us come back after the first of the year to begin recording what we came up with.

Well, after a few months (I believe it was in August), they asked my mother (who, again, handled the business) and myself to return to England to sign contracts and button up some details. Looking back, I have no idea why this couldn't have been handled by mail, but for whatever reason, I was off to London again.

This time, it wasn't quite as fun as having your group with you. Mom and I stayed in a hotel and, for the most part, I don't remember much about how I spent the approximate one week we were there. It was probably fairly mundane. It was also, as it turned out, the calm before the storm.

I went to the EMI offices in town with my mom as she conducted the business dealings and, finally during one of those meetings, one of the EMI officials asked, “Would you like to go over to the studios before you leave this week and watch a recording session?” Of course, I said yes and the man began to consult a log of what was coming up that week. He mentioned a few artists whom I had never heard of, a soloist named Frank something, and then said, “Oh, there is a Hollies session, as well.” As a huge fan of The Hollies, I immediately told him I would love to see that and he gave me the time (I believe it was late afternoon) to show up at the studios. How cool was this?

The day came and I took a cab to the studios, walked up the steps, and again found myself in front of the guard at the front desk. “Oh, yes, Tom. The session is right there through that door,” as he motioned toward a door to my left which was Studio 3, the smallest of the studios at EMI, but also the one used to record many hits, including Beatles tracks. I thanked him and slowly opened the heavy door and peeked in. A gentleman sat at a mixing console and looked up.

“Hi, I'm Tom Hartman. I was told by EMI-”

“Oh! Yes, sure, come on in. Expecting you!” said the man.

The man turned out to be The Hollies’ producer, Ron Richards, and he immediately put me at ease. “You can just sit on the couch, there,” he said, and, upon doing so, I could see through the glass into the studio where none other than The Hollies were at the microphone. The band was speaking to Ron and he answered them back, “Let's try it again.” Suddenly, music began to play back and I heard their unmistakable voices coming through the monitors. Quite an amazing feeling! There they were, in all their splendid harmonic glory, singing a song called “Man with No Expression,” which I had, of course, never heard. After a few bars, Ron stopped the tape and said, “Can you guys come in here and do that?”

The control room door soon opened and in they came. I recognized them immediately. Ron made a brief introduction and then addressed them again, “Just sing what you are singing out there,” he said.
After one of them counted off, they stood not three feet from me and all began singing, “He's a man // I know // with no expression, no // no, not at all.”

Well, you can imagine. Hearing them sing this closely in that wonderful harmony- it was mesmerizing. They decided to take a break and Graham Nash picked up an acoustic guitar and strummed a bit. “Do you play?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said, at which point he handed me the acoustic. “Tell me what you think of this. It's new.”

I politely strummed a few chords, and then Graham took the guitar back. “No, no, you have to bang these things! Like this!” whereupon he started playing it very loudly and they all started laughing. Tony Hicks, their lead guitarist, kind of gave me a smile as if to say, “Hey, it's okay. We're not making fun of you.” He was really a great guy.

I watched them for a little while longer, and then left the control room momentarily to call back to the hotel and let my mom know how great it was all going. When I got off the phone, I walked back to the studio, opened the door, and no one was there! I stood there for a second deciding what to do when, all of a sudden, I heard Tony Hicks' voice.

“Are you going 'round to the pub then?” He was walking toward me from the hallway. “We're taking a break. You want to come to the pub?”

Of course I said “Yes,” and next thing I know I was following him out the front door, down the steps, and into his small two-seater sports car (maybe a mini Cooper?). So now I’m driving with one of The Hollies! Things just keep getting stranger.

We drove a few blocks away to a small pub, went in, and I sat at a table with the entire group. They ordered a Vodka and Lime and I said “The same for me,” not having any idea what that was (turned out to be what we call a Vodka Sour and was pretty darned good!). They asked me about my group, I told them, and they gave me some recording tips. They also suggested that we be sure to be well rehearsed so we could get a lot done. It was a really relaxed and easy-going time at the table with a group I had many records by; and, for once, I felt like all the hard work for years in St Louis, all the little dances we played way out in the sticks, all of it had been worth it.

Soon we were back in Tony's car and driving into the EMI Studio lot, whereupon about six or seven kids ran in when the gate opened and surrounded the car, holding out pens and paper for autographs. Tony dutifully signed and one kid even handed me one. “Oh no,” I said, “I'm not one of the Hollies, but thank you.” We walked back up the steps and, as we did, I said “Wow that must be neat all the time!” Tony said, “It's okay, but, you know, sometimes you do get a bit tired of it,” and laughed.

As we walked in, I told him I noticed the amps they used (I had seen them through the control room window) were unusual Vox models. Tony told me, “Yeah, they made those for us. Would you like to see them?” He had me follow him into the studio, allowed me to pick up his guitar, and turned his amp on. I strummed a few chords and then teased him by playing a little of the intro to their hit “Bus Stop.” He smiled and said, “No, like this,” and moved one of my fingers to the correct position. “Ah,” I said, “I knew I was playing that wrong!”

I then started strumming some more chords, followed by playing the opening riff to “On a Carousel,” another one of their hits. All of a sudden, I heard drums and bass kick in. The other members of the group had joined in!

I was now jamming with The Hollies!

Tony noticed I played a G chord in a unique way and said, “That's neat. I never saw that position,” and I showed him why I liked it.

What an amazing day! It simply could not get any better. Or could it?

After a few more minutes, the guys said they had to get back to work and I thanked them all profusely. I could have stayed longer, but went back in the control room and thanked Ron Richards again, told him the studio was really cool, and that everyone had been great. I didn't want to wear out my welcome.

“Thank you, Tom, for coming. Yeah, we like this studio. This is where “Window” was done you know!” (Meaning their early hit, “Look Through Any Window”). I said goodbye and went back out to the front desk. I was just beaming and was about to go use a phone on a nearby desk to call a taxi for the ride back to the hotel, but was feeling chatty and decided to speak with the guard.

“Great studio. And The Hollies were really nice. Anything else going on here this evening?”

The guard looked up, smiled, and softly said, “Well, you know, the boys are back there tonight.”

“The boys?”

“The Beatles,” he answered.

The Beatles had been recording there for so long that the older staff referred to them as “the boys.” Well, guess whose heart was now racing in overdrive. I decided to play it cool.

“Do you mind if I go down to the canteen before I leave?” I asked.

“No, sure. Go right on,” he said, apparently unable to put two and two together.

I walked down the long hallway and, as I got about halfway down, I saw the control room door to Studio 2 propped halfway open. I could hear music coming out, but had to wait until I walked nearer to hear what it was. When I got closer, I heard what was clearly John Lennon singing “Sexy Sadie // Oh, you'll get yours yet // Sexy Sadie,” and then the tape would stop. I heard it rewind, then the same part play again. In between plays, I could hear a bass guitar doodling about. I continued walking and got to some familiar steps. The same ones I had gone down during our studio tour when we met George. I took them down. After all, they were in the direction of the canteen. When I got to the bottom, though, instead of turning to the canteen, I went the other way...to the entrance to Studio 2, whose doors were open. I carefully peeked beyond the door.

There, about twenty-five feet into the studio stood Paul with his foot on a stool, holding his bass, while John stood next to him. I had apparently been hearing Paul overdubbing a bass part onto this “Sexy Sadie” thing I was hearing upstairs! I quickly backed off, so as not to be seen, and eventually did end up in the canteen. After a bit, I made my way back upstairs and went to the front to call the taxi, excited, to say the least about my day. Now, it certainly couldn't get much better! Could it?

I called for the taxi and meandered around the front desk and lobby area. As far as I can recall, the guard had seemingly left momentarily. So I decided to take one last trip down the hall while waiting for the cab. I began the walk and, as I did so, I heard some very loud music coming from somewhere down the hall. I kept walking forward and could plainly hear it as a simple blues jam by someone. It became louder and louder as I walked down the corridor and passed the still partially propped open door to Studio 2's control room. Just as I passed the door, the thunderous blues jam was all encompassing, and I looked suddenly to my right. Through a glass window, all four Beatles were crammed into a tiny room, playing the song I would later know as “Yer Blues.”

I was frozen.

This window looking into the room was no more than a couple of feet from me. The room was the size of small kids’ bedroom and The Beatles were just on the other side of the glass. I was probably within six feet of them. The Ed Sullivan Show, A Hard Day’s Night, Help!, seeing them at Busch Stadium live (the size of ants), and now six feet from me. Fortunately, they weren't looking. Ringo's eyes were closed as he played; Paul was on the left, looking at John on the right; and George was standing dead center looking down at his guitar. What do I do? Stand there until I'm noticed? I couldn't decide whether to be cool and just keep walking or remain where I was. In this case, he who hesitates won. I remained. They played for about another minute before ending the song. I heard a voice from the control room say something, and John said, “That's okay, as long as you got the voice,” at which point all of them started laughing.

I quickly started walking again, escaping totally unnoticed! A free Beatles concert for heaven's sake! I eventually made my way back to the lobby, where the taxi driver soon walked in and asked if someone had called a cab.

“That's me,” I said, and followed the driver out the door and into the magical, unforgettable, evening.

There would be a long winter of writing our album and a wonderful spring of recording it back at EMI again in 1969. Then, decades later, it would finally be released and I would make new friends from all over the world, sharing these amazing stories with them, as well as my early musical efforts. But surely these days in London, for me as young boy, will forever remain as remarkably unique; and, hopefully in sharing them, they’ll serve as an inspiration to others who hold dreams of their own.

Tom Hartman

A monumental 'thank you' is given to Tom for taking the large amount of time necessary to write all of these stories for us. Not only was Tom gracious for sharing his memories with us, but he was also incredibly thoughtful to share them with such intricate detail, really helping to make the stories come alive. Tom most definitely has our sincerest gratitude.
These days, Tom is a music producer for hiring, doing television spots and the like. Because of his work schedule, he hasn't been able to find the time to create an album, but he has been working on a few new tracks for the past couple of years, as time permits. There should be five songs available in the first quarter of 2013, highlighted by the track "Swinging London," dealing with his time as a youth in London in the '60s. "Swinging London" may just make an appearance on A Bit Like You And Me after its release, so stay tuned!

If you'd like to visit The Aerovons' website, you can find it here.

And now that you've enjoyed this exclusive story, why not check out what other exclusive stories we've received?

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The Aerovons - Song for Jane (1969)

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Lyrics:

Look at Jane in the window
Looking out at nothing new
Is it that she’s growing older?
And run out of things to do?

Living in a dream, her life is fading
She’s still living in the past
Wonder why she’s growing older
All the same, but she has changed

Song for Jane makes her happy
Song for Jane makes her sad
Her world seemed so much brighter
Every time we sing a song

Is it that she’s growing older?
It’s all the same, but she has changed
Living in a dream, her life is fading
She’s still living in the past
Wonder why she’s growing older
And her youth is gone, at last

Song for Jane makes her happy
Song for Jane makes her sad
Though her world seemed so much brighter
Every time we sing a song

Every time we sing a song

The Aerovons - With Her (1969)

This is day four of our week-long special! In case you've missed what's been going on, Tom Hartman of The Aerovons has been kind enough to share with us five exclusive stories surrounding his time as a musician in the late '60s.

As with most of The Aerovons' songs, this track was recorded in 1969 and released over thirty years later in 2003. It was the album's fourth track.

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A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 4 of 5
It should be noted that today's story takes place last, chronologically. For the correct order, you'd only need to switch the place of today's story with tomorrow's. The reason for putting this one before tomorrow's is that I feel tomorrow's story is the most entertaining and should be saved for last. And, since each story is independent of the others, it really shouldn't make a difference as far as storytelling goes. So once again, here's Tom:

The Day I Met John Lennon
...so to speak.
Well, in the course of having a band throughout your teens there are many fond memories. It's hard to know where to start. But a somewhat humorous one, I think, might be “The Day I Met John Lennon,”...so to speak.

While recording our album, The Aerovons were fortunate enough to see The Beatles almost daily, as they were busy recording Abbey Road while we were doing our record. So, it was quite common to see them walking down the hallways of EMI Studios (as it was then called), though we never really got used to it. When reading things like this account, you have to remember that just a few short years prior, I was sitting in front of my television “that” Sunday night like everyone else, watching in awe at them on The Ed Sullivan Show.

We were blessed, as I mentioned, to meet them at the studios (and Paul at a local nightclub), but had never really spoken or met John. Lennon was always accompanied by Yoko, who even waited outside the men's room at the studio for him, so none of us ever felt comfortable just walking up and saying hello. This made what happened one day at the studio all the more intense and memorable for me.

While recording in Studio 2, my guitar cable suddenly started shorting out. I went up the long stairs to the control room, told everyone I'd be back in a minute, and went to retrieve another one (if I could find one) from our gear. Our gear was kept in the same place as where The Beatles’ stored their equipment, and old unused room just down the hall. My drummer Mike was already out in the hall for reasons I can't remember, possibly because he was taking a break and waiting for me to finish the guitar part which had been interrupted by the shorting cable. When I saw him, I said, “Need to get another cable,” and started walking toward the room. Suddenly Mike, ever the joker and instigator, said, “Hey, go ask Lennon for one. He's right down the hall,” and pointed.

I turned to look and, sure enough, there was John Lennon, about fifty feet down the corridor, standing with Yoko Ono. For some reason, instead of saying, “Yeah, right,” I decided to play along. “Okay, good idea!” I said, or some words to that effect, and began to walk down the hall toward John. Now there was no way I was going to really ask John Lennon for anything. I was simply going to fake my drummer out and walk right by him and keep going. Something, however, about approaching a live Beatle causes your sensory system to act in funny ways. The closer I got, the heavier my legs became. I continued to walk, but could almost feel myself slowing down, as in one of those dreams where you try to move, but your legs feel heavy.

I was now close enough to see that Yoko was leaning against the wall of the hallway while John leaned with one arm over her, speaking softly. A few more steps and I'd be by them and my prank complete. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead, but just as I was within a few feet of them, I heard John say, “Just a minute, just a minute,” quickly and softly, almost under his breath, to Yoko. That made me look over toward him and the next thing you know he was looking straight into my eyes. Houston, we have a problem, here.

John Lennon is looking at me. I'm looking at him. My legs have stopped moving. There is nothing left to do but speak.

Try to imagine my half of the conversation being said at a nervous pace and in a shaky voice. I started, “Uh, hi John- excuse me- um- we're recording in Studio 2 and I just broke a guitar cord and we keep our equipment in the same room as you do and so I was wondering if there was any way we might be able to borrow a guitar cord from you?” It really was that much of a run on, spoken sentence! I felt like a total idiot.

“Ah, yeah, well, do you know Mal or Kevin?” (Mal being Mal Evans, of course. And Kevin Harrington, a production runabout seen in the background of the rooftop “Let It Be” sequence.) I did know Mal and he had been very nice to my band and me. Kevin I had met and he had not been very friendly.

“Oh, yeah, sure I know them.”

“Okay. Go tell 'em I said it was alright.”

Somewhat dumbfound, I replied, “Oh, thanks John! Thanks a lot; I really appreciate it!” He nodded and turned back toward Yoko.

I sped back down the hall toward Mike, who had a look on his face like, “What are you doing?!”, simply told him, “He said it was okay,” and we both started laughing.

So that was my only conversation with John Lennon, but I sure won't forget it. He could have said, “Can't you see I'm trying to have a private conversation?” etc. But instead, he was kind enough to (probably) tell I was a nervous young kid and instead chose to be kind.

In the movie Help!, there’s a scene where two older women watch The Beatles arrive at their houses. One says to the other, “So natural. Just the way they was before they was.” And that's really how they were: down to earth and even downright kind.

Tom Hartman

Tom has lead an extremely lucky life when it comes to meeting some of rock history's most legendary musicians. There's only one story left, but it's my favorite! Come back tomorrow to see the final installment from Tom Hartman of The Aerovons!

Update: Continue with Part 5 of 5.

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The Aerovons - With Her (1969)

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Lyrics:

I could leave my mark in time
I could touch her hand in mine
I’m not alone
This I could show
With her

There’d be time to spend with her
And a hand to lend in her
I’d have to show
Someone I’d know
Was mine

We wouldn’t need to speak with words
A smile would mean enough with her

I’d have to show
Someone I’d know was mine

We wouldn’t need to speak with words
A smile would mean enough with her

I could leave my mark in time
If a thought of love crosses her mind

The Aerovons - Say Georgia (1969)

Today marks day number three in the five-part series brought to us by Tom Hartman of The Aerovons.

Recorded in 1969 and released in 2003, this song appears as the third track on The Aerovons' only record, Resurrection. The group clearly found their inspiration in the song "Oh! Darling" by The Beatles, which appeared on their 1969 album Abbey Road.

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A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 3 of 5
It just keeps getting better, doesn't it? These stories are wonderful. Let's not waste any more time. Here's Tom!

What a Week!
(or, "Excuse Me, Is That...GEORGE?")
A few days after experiencing unbelievable luck by meeting Paul McCartney at London's Speakeasy club, EMI asked us if we would like to “see where you will be recording,” and of course we were thrilled. Abbey Road Studios back then was simply “EMI Studios” and probably only hardcore fans realized it was where The Beatles (and many others) recorded; but, of course, we knew.

So one afternoon, all of us hopped into a taxi and found ourselves entering the famous front doorway at #3 Abbey Road. Upon entering, there is a front desk with a guard up front, and we checked in and told him we were there to “get the tour,” per Roy Featherstone at EMI. Another elder studio technician came out and greeted us and all of us began to follow him down the main hallway that took one into where the studios were accessed. We didn't get far when we were taken aback by the sight of tall man with a warm and hearty voice who came out of nowhere and said something to our guide.

“Oh, I'm just taking them for a studio tour, they'll be recording here soon” our guide told the man.

“Oh okay. Well, if you want, I'll tag along!” said the big man.

We were so very impressed because, as Beatles fans, we instantly recognized him as Mal Evans, their long time road manager. He was also featured in several comical scenes in Help!.

“Wow, you're Mal!” I said.

He instantly smiled. “Yep, that's me.”

“Wow Mal, can I ask you a question about Help!?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Were you really under the ice in that water? How did you keep from freezing?”

“Oh yes, really there. Just lots of coffee,” he laughed. You could tell Mal, relegated to being basically a “go for” for the most famous group in the world, was very pleased at being recognized and everyone was instantly at ease.

We followed Mal and our guide down the hall as they pointed out doors to either side and mentioned where they led: storage areas, mix rooms, etc. About halfway down the long corridor, steps led downward.

“This goes down to the canteen area and to Studio 2,” Mal said. Studio 2 is where perhaps easily over half of The Beatles’ records were recorded, so it was going to be amazing to see it in person. We had only seen photos of it in The Beatles Monthly magazines and were really excited. Later, it would be where we recorded “World of You” and most of our album, as well. We wound down the steps and before you know it, were in front of two large doors that opened into the huge studio. Immediately as we walked in, our guide and Mal began pointing things out: microphone storage areas, baffles (sound deadening devices), etc. But their voices began to fade as all of us locked on to a familiar site far off into the back of the studio. There sat a black pearl set of Ludwig drums with a bass drum cover, in color, which said “LOVE.” It was Ringo's drum set as seen on the “Magical Mystery Tour” sessions.

“Wow! Is that Ringo's drum set?” Mike asked.

Mal kind of nodded and just kept on talking about the studio, continuing to point more things out as we walked deeper into the enormous room. When we got about three quarters of the way into the room, we found ourselves even with a long flight of steps which led up to the control room. We all stopped there momentarily to continue listening to Mal. I remember saying to him, for no particular reason, “Do The Beatles mind it when they hear groups like The Bee Gees, that kind of sound like them, or do their style?” Mal smiled slightly and said, “Not if they do it well, you know.” We made some more small talk as our guide began pointing some things and took some questions from others in the group.

Suddenly, Bob, our rhythm guitarist, whispered into my ear, “Hey look up there. It looks like Harrison…”

I turned toward Bob and he slightly motioned his head upwards. My eyes followed. At the top of the steps, standing and looking through the control room glass window, was indeed a figure that resembled George. Tough call though, as the control room was darkened and only a general outline could be seen. Mal was still talking when I turned to him and said, “Excuse me Mal. Is that....George up there?”

Mal looked up, then back at me and nodded, as if to say, “Well, yes...”

You could hear all of us take a quick breath inward and I immediately said, “Do you think he would come down?” Unfortunately, the answer was not what we wanted to hear. “Oh, well, probably not. He's very busy mixing a personal project.” Mal then started talking again about the studio, but his voice just became another sound in the room. My mind was racing.

I looked at Bob and then looked up again at the control room window high above. The figure was still standing there, looking down. Suddenly, I just said to myself, “Oh, what the heck.” With a large waving motion of my arm, I pointed to the figure and made a swooping motion as if to say “C'MON DOWN!”

The figure immediately turned away and disappeared from view.

Bob immediately said, “Oh man, why'd you do that?”. The others hadn't noticed, as they were still talking or being spoken to by Mal and the tour guide. Then, a new sound filled our ears. It was a metallic “clanking” sound, that of a large door opening. We looked up, and at the top of the steps, the studio door was open and standing at the top of the steps was George Harrison. We all looked up and the room went silent.

“Are you all with a magazine?” George started.

We were dressed in our best Carnaby Street outfits and my mom was holding a rather large camera, so the question wasn't too farfetched.

“Oh no, we're a group. We're going to be recording here and Mal is giving us a tour!” I shouted.

“Oh, okay,” said George nonchalantly. He began walking down the long steps, toward us. Under his breath, Bob whispered to me in my ear, “He's comin', he's comin' down!” We stood frozen in time as George Harrison got closer and closer, finally walking right up to me and extending his hand.

“Hi, I'm George.”

“Hi, I'm…Tom...”

We all kind of laughed at that and everyone shook his hand. “George, do you think you could answer just a few guitar questions?” I asked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

“George, do you mind if…” my mother said as she held her camera up slightly.

“Yeah, it's okay.”

“George, do you remember how you got the guitar sound in 'Nowhere Man'?” I asked.

“Yeah, two Fenders, I believe.”

“Stratocasters? With the toggle switch jammed in the in-between spot?”

“Yeah. John and I played it together and they compressed it a bit (understatement of the century) up in the box (meaning the control room).”

“We met Paul the other night and he said it was a Gretsch,” I smiled.

“No, two Fenders. So where you all from?”

We told him St. Louis and that we had all seen The Beatles when they played there in 1966. Did he remember?

“Vaguely, yeah. I tried to go to St. Louis once and I ended up in some kind of little hick town somewhere,” George laughed. “My sister lives near there.”

I continued, “George, in ‘Got to Get You Into My Life,’ your guitar seems to hold out so long. Do you remember what you did to get that to happen?”

“Was there brass in that one?”

“Oh, yeah. Lots of brass.”

“Ah, yeah, well, you see, that was probably the brass holding things out underneath. You know, it's funny because people always ask us how we do things and we cop as many things from others as they do us,” he said laughing. “Do you guys know of Eric Clapton?” (CREAM was rather new at the time.)

Mike and Nolan jumped in, “Oh yeah , he's great!”

“Yeah, well, you know he practices like twelve hours a day and then they call me a guitarist,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, you're just fine,” I said and laughed. “Is that just guitar or guitar and electric piano in the very beginning of ‘Getting Better’?”

To answer, George suddenly took a step back and began strumming an imaginary air guitar. “You mean, 'It's getting better all the time,” quasi-singing. We all laughed. “No, just guitar; the electric piano comes in a bit later.” Suddenly, he reached over to a circular button I was wearing on my jacket which said “ALL YOU NEED IS TEA.”

“Ah, all you need is tea, eh? I'll remember that...”

We all laughed again. He was so much funnier and easy going than I ever would have expected- so very down to earth and with such a great sense of humor. I asked him, “George, did Paul really play those lead bits in ‘Ticket to Ride’?”

“Yeah, on an Epiphone that was, I believe.” (He was right, of course.)

“But then what do you do when you're not playing lead?”

“Oh there's always something to do,” he laughed and, for some reason, Mal laughed too.

And so the questions went, many of them resulting in George not remembering exactly what was done or how it was done. But he was always pleasant and patient throughout. In total, he probably spent about twenty minutes with us. Finally, he said, “Well, I better get back up there to work.” We all began thanking him at the same time. Again, he shook everyone's hands, even smiled over at mom, and said bye to her. He turned, was quickly back up the steps, and the clanking sound of the studio door echoed in the room once more.

I looked up at Mal. Mal looked back with a look as if to say, “Good one. That turned out very well for you!” Indeed it had.

When we got back to the States, we were all in shock to find that my mom, who was operating a fairly involved, new camera at the time, had set the exposure wrong and all of her pictures were washed out and hardly recognizable. Nowadays it's pretty simple to fix something like that, or at least go a long way toward salvaging it with Photoshop, etc., but back then, it was a nightmare. She finally found a photo lab that did reconstructive work and managed to salvage one picture from that day. It's the picture that forever freezes the moment when George first walked up and started answering my questions.

Meeting a Beatle and getting to ask him questions was akin to winning the Lotto, to me. Meeting two in one week's time, well that's altogether a horse of a different color, as they say. The only thing more amazing than that would be stumbling upon all of The Beatles at once and seeing them play live from a few feet away. Who can say they've ever seen anything like that?

Stay tuned... ;)

Tom Hartman

Nolan, Tom, Mike, George, and Bob
EMI STUDIO 2 1968
Another wonderful story! We've just gone by the halfway point, but there's still two more stories to be heard. Come back tomorrow for another great exclusive from Tom before we wrap things up on Friday. Thanks again to Tom Hartman for the time he took to share his memories with all of us.

Update: Continue with Part 4 of 5.

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The Aerovons - Say Georgia (1969)

Loading the ABLYAM player...(Might not work on mobile devices)

Lyrics:

Say Georgia
You’ve been down
Say Georgia
Can’t you see?

That I’m not one to change you badly
The word for my love is “madly”
Say, say Georgia
You’ve been down about me

Say Georgia
I’ve been thinkin’
About the feelin’ that I have
Well, it’s not much for famous Sunday
It’s gonna make you stop

Someday, someday Georgia
They’ll be a way
Oh, yeah

I’ve got somethin’ for someday
It’s not enough, but
Baby, baby, baby, baby
I’m not the one to treat you badly

Say Georgia
You’ve been down
Say Georgia
Can’t you see?

That I’m not one to treat you badly
The word for my love is “madly”

Say Georgia
Oh Georgia
There'll be a way

The Aerovons - Resurrection (1969)

Welcome to the second day of the week-long journey with The Aerovons' lead man, Tom Hartman. If you thought yesterday's post was awesome, wait until you read today's story. And you may want to grab a seat; this one is a nice, long read!

Recorded in 1969, today's song below Tom's story was a shining example of just how much The Beatles had influenced this group. Borrowing their melody from The Fab Four's "Across the Universe," seventeen year old Tom had only heard "Across the Universe" once (before it's actual release) a week prior to writing this song. It wasn't clear to him at the time just how much he had borrowed from that strong impression. The song appears as the second track to the group's album, Resurrection.

---

A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 2 of 5
Yesterday's post was wonderful. How lucky it must have felt to meet half of The Who! Let's get right into the second story from Tom.

Meeting Paul
(or, "The Amazing Autograph Fiasco")
My band, The Aerovons, had gone to England after Capitol Records referred us to A&R man Roy Featherstone at EMI in London. After getting signed, we remained in London for a week or so with my mother continuing to work out the details with the record company. We had enjoyed going out and taking cabs at night to well known clubs, or “discos” as they were then known, and getting a heavy dose of the London music scene. It was a wonderful and exciting time with the speakers in the various clubs belting out great records we had not heard in the States. And each club was filled with wild characters in all manner of dress.

At one point, Roy asked us if we were getting out, seeing things, and enjoying ourselves. We mentioned that, yes, we had been, and named some of the clubs we had been to. ”Have you been to Speakeasy?” he asked. “No, we tried,” I said, “But it's private membership so we couldn't get in.”

“Oh we'll get you in. When would you like to go? Thursday okay?”

We all said “Great!” and looked forward to another adventure.

“There are a lot of well-known artists who go there. That's why they keep it private,” Roy offered.

So a couple of nights later, we called a taxi. Around ten or eleven we arrived at a simple stairway off of a typical city street, leading down to a room where you found yourself at something like a ticket booth. We told the man there the name of our group and said EMI was supposed to have left our names for admittance.

“Oh, I see. Yes, you're fine,” said the attendant. He asked us to sign in and, while doing so, I said something like, “We've heard a lot of well known people come here. Anyone we know here tonight?”

“Well Diana Ross was here awhile ago. And Michael Caine.”

We all mumbled our appropriate approval of this, when he then added “And Paul's in there somewhere.”

“Paul…McCartney?”

“Uh ....yes” he said, as if surprised he could have meant anyone else. Well, at that point you can imagine what a group of Beatles fans were all whispering to each other as we walked in.

Speakeasy was a rather small club, divided into two sections. The main area had a small stage where local (and well known) acts would play, which was surrounded by tables where everyone sat and had drinks. But along the side of the room was a long glass divider and a door into a more elegant dining area. It was hard to see anything as it was quite dark, lit with only candles, as I recall, or some kind of small lights at each table, both in the main area and the dining area behind the glass. You really couldn't make out faces very well.

My mother, Mike, Bob (my longtime friend and rhythm guitarist who didn't make the trip for the recording of our album), Nolan (our then bass player), and myself took a seat at a table in the main club. My mom was an unusual character. While it may seem odd that she accompanied us, if you knew us, it really wasn't at all. Though she handled the business and was single-handedly responsible for getting us signed to EMI, she was also almost “one of the gang.” Local fans of our group in St. Louis would come to our band practices and, instead of sitting downstairs and watching us, they'd disappear after a while and we'd find them all upstairs talking to “Mrs. H.” She was popular with the kids and was just as excited about everything as we were.

So there we sat, our eyes trying to make images out in the darkness of the club, while songs like “Tin Soldier” by The Small Faces blasted out of the club’s sound system. We must have sat there for a good half hour with each minute that passed bringing us a little closer to resignation.

“He probably left already,” or, “We must have missed him,” were familiar remarks.

But low and behold, I suddenly heard Bob say, “Hey, that's him!” as he motioned toward the glass door which opened into the dining room. I looked over and there he was, Paul in a tuxedo (or something close to it; he was quite well dressed), leaving the dining room and walking away from us down a path that led-

“That goes to the bathrooms!” Mike said. “Yeah, let's get up and wait for when he comes back out again!” said someone else. We were all nervous wrecks. He had been about twenty feet from us and was now gone from sight. It was up to us to determine what happened next.

“C'mon,” various members of the group said, and everyone stood up and more or less started ambling over to the glass door that led to the dining room. “He'll have to come back in this way!” somebody reasoned.

“What are we going to say?” I remember asking. Before you know it, guess who was coming back, walking right toward us? “There he is!” one of the guys said. “Go, go!”

I felt several hands push me ever so slightly, as if I had been nominated to be the “Most Embarrassed Person in the World.” I took a couple of steps forward just as Paul reached for the door to return into the dining room.

“Uh, hi Paul, excuse me, we're a group from the United States and we're going to be recording at EMI and just wondered if you had a second to-”

“Oh, the U.S., great!” said Paul.

We collectively almost died. Paul let go of the doorknob and leaned back against the glass wall.

“What part of the States are you from?”

We all moved closer, including the cowards in back of me who were now vying for “Best Place to Stand Closest to Paul.”

I asked, “Paul, I was wondering if you remembered how you guys got the guitar sound in 'Nowhere Man'?”

“Ah yeah, well I think that was a Grestch, and they just put a lot of top on it (meaning treble) on the record.”

Personally, I used a Grestch and knew that there was no way in the world it was a Grestch on the record. But I wasn't about to say anything! Paul made pleasant small talk and asked how we liked it “over here,” etc. We could really hardly believe it was all happening, as you might suppose. All of a sudden, our then-bass player, Nolan, reached over my shoulder with one of our band's business cards and handed it to Paul.

“Paul I know this is a lot to ask, but could you sign this?” Nolan asked.

(Feigning great pain), “Oh yeah....it's a lot to ask,” and laughed. “Got a pen?”

Somehow, someone came up with a pen. On our cards, it said “The Aerovons. Smashing British Sound”

Paul looked at the card and smiled, “Ah...smashing British sound, eh?” and we all laughed. He handed the card back to Nolan and said, “Can I have one?” referring to our cards. Someone gave Paul another card and he pocketed it.

We spoke for a few more minutes, about what I cannot remember. I was frankly so in awe that I was beside myself. It was like standing in front of royalty. He was so well dressed and so pleasant. Everything you would hope meeting an idol would be like.

Finally, we thanked him profusely, he wished us much luck, and he shot back through the glass door into the dining room. We walked on air back to our table and took a seat. Mom was so happy for us. We all were just giddy, when mom said something like, “Well that will really be something to add to our scrapbook!” meaning the autograph.

“Hey, no way! That's my autograph. I'm not giving that to anyone. I was the one who asked for it!” Nolan remarked. Like the air coming out of a hundred birthday balloons, we all grew silent, as we realized the truth: there were many Aerovons, but only one autograph of Paul's.

I was particularly angry, as I felt like Nolan wouldn't even have been here to get the opportunity to get the autograph had it not been for my mother getting us signed and obtaining the financial backing to fly us all over there. But I did understand how Nolan felt, as I would have most likely been of the same sentiment. Everyone was a bit bummed, so I finally reached over and asked for three more Aerovons’ band cards. I grabbed them and said, “Okay, I'll just tell him what happened and see what he does. All he can do is say ‘no’.”

We waited and waited, until finally, after about a half an hour, the door opened and Paul came out, accompanied by Jane Asher, also dressed to the hilt, in a beautiful long gown. This must have been one of their last outings, as shortly thereafter Paul and Jane split. I recognized her immediately as I had always thought Asher was the perfect British beauty.

I walked quickly up to him fueled, no doubt, by frustration over Nolan's stance, and said, “Excuse me again, Paul. I'm so sorry, but as soon as we sat down, our bass player got a little possessive with the one autograph you gave us and-”

“Okay, it's alright, you've got a pen?”

I handed Paul the additional band cards and a pen. He bent down so he could write on one knee, quickly scratching his name on the additional cards. Jane just stood, patiently gazing around the room, as if this happened all the time.

“I'm really sorry and I can't thank you enough. No one's going to believe us when we get home.”

“Ah, but now you've got this!” he said as he smiled and handed back the cards. I didn't know what to say so I just smiled back. He stood up, turned, and then was gone.

Decades later, I spoke with Nolan and asked him if he still had the autograph. “Oh no, I gave that away to someone who really appreciated it,” he said.

Takes all kinds, I guess.

My autograph hangs on my wall to this day. I just glanced over to it as I wrote this. It's framed and simply says “Paul McCartney.” On the frame it says “Speakeasy, 1968.” The other members still have theirs as well, save for Nolan.

This entire occurrence gave me a look at Paul the human being. He really understood the predicament I was in and took the time to save a dream for us. I will always respect him for his kindness and patience that night. After all, it was our one and only chance to ever meet a Beatle.

Or so we thought....

Tom Hartman

(To be continued…”Meeting George”)

"Paul McCartney"
"Speakeasy Club • London • 1968"
A big 'thank you' to Tom for not only sharing this story, but for all of the work he put into not leaving out a single detail. It really makes the story come alive when nothing is left out. We owe Tom a great deal for his generosity!

Update: Continue with Part 3 of 5.

---

The Aerovons - Resurrection (1969)

Loading the ABLYAM player...(Might not work on mobile devices)

Lyrics:

Sunday drives and Ferris wheels
Something that was something real
Now Sunday’s really Monday in disguise

Floating down a stream of smiles
You take some time to stop a while
Resurrecting every thought and mile

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

Paper cups and love affairs
Gliding through the open air
Gently hiding off from every care

Ocean skies with rainbow kites
Go soaring on from mind to mind
Tomorrow and tomorrow alter time

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

I like what I see today
‘til every runs the other way
And no one hears a word they seem to say

Floating down a stream of smiles
Now take some time to stop a while
Resurrecting every thought and mile

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

And I reach out for you
And I reach out for you
Reach out for you…

The Aerovons - Resurrection (1969)

Welcome to the second day of the week-long journey with The Aerovons' lead man, Tom Hartman. If you thought yesterday's post was awesome, wait until you read today's story. And you may want to grab a seat; this one is a nice, long read!

Recorded in 1969, today's song below Tom's story was a shining example of just how much The Beatles had influenced this group. Borrowing their melody from The Fab Four's "Across the Universe," seventeen year old Tom had only heard "Across the Universe" once (before it's actual release) a week prior to writing this song. It wasn't clear to him at the time just how much he had borrowed from that strong impression. The song appears as the second track to the group's album, Resurrection.

---

A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 2 of 5
Yesterday's post was wonderful. How lucky it must have felt to meet half of The Who! Let's get right into the second story from Tom.

Meeting Paul
(or, "The Amazing Autograph Fiasco")
My band, The Aerovons, had gone to England after Capitol Records referred us to A&R man Roy Featherstone at EMI in London. After getting signed, we remained in London for a week or so with my mother continuing to work out the details with the record company. We had enjoyed going out and taking cabs at night to well known clubs, or “discos” as they were then known, and getting a heavy dose of the London music scene. It was a wonderful and exciting time with the speakers in the various clubs belting out great records we had not heard in the States. And each club was filled with wild characters in all manner of dress.

At one point, Roy asked us if we were getting out, seeing things, and enjoying ourselves. We mentioned that, yes, we had been, and named some of the clubs we had been to. ”Have you been to Speakeasy?” he asked. “No, we tried,” I said, “But it's private membership so we couldn't get in.”

“Oh we'll get you in. When would you like to go? Thursday okay?”

We all said “Great!” and looked forward to another adventure.

“There are a lot of well-known artists who go there. That's why they keep it private,” Roy offered.

So a couple of nights later, we called a taxi. Around ten or eleven we arrived at a simple stairway off of a typical city street, leading down to a room where you found yourself at something like a ticket booth. We told the man there the name of our group and said EMI was supposed to have left our names for admittance.

“Oh, I see. Yes, you're fine,” said the attendant. He asked us to sign in and, while doing so, I said something like, “We've heard a lot of well known people come here. Anyone we know here tonight?”

“Well Diana Ross was here awhile ago. And Michael Caine.”

We all mumbled our appropriate approval of this, when he then added “And Paul's in there somewhere.”

“Paul…McCartney?”

“Uh ....yes” he said, as if surprised he could have meant anyone else. Well, at that point you can imagine what a group of Beatles fans were all whispering to each other as we walked in.

Speakeasy was a rather small club, divided into two sections. The main area had a small stage where local (and well known) acts would play, which was surrounded by tables where everyone sat and had drinks. But along the side of the room was a long glass divider and a door into a more elegant dining area. It was hard to see anything as it was quite dark, lit with only candles, as I recall, or some kind of small lights at each table, both in the main area and the dining area behind the glass. You really couldn't make out faces very well.

My mother, Mike, Bob (my longtime friend and rhythm guitarist who didn't make the trip for the recording of our album), Nolan (our then bass player), and myself took a seat at a table in the main club. My mom was an unusual character. While it may seem odd that she accompanied us, if you knew us, it really wasn't at all. Though she handled the business and was single-handedly responsible for getting us signed to EMI, she was also almost “one of the gang.” Local fans of our group in St. Louis would come to our band practices and, instead of sitting downstairs and watching us, they'd disappear after a while and we'd find them all upstairs talking to “Mrs. H.” She was popular with the kids and was just as excited about everything as we were.

So there we sat, our eyes trying to make images out in the darkness of the club, while songs like “Tin Soldier” by The Small Faces blasted out of the club’s sound system. We must have sat there for a good half hour with each minute that passed bringing us a little closer to resignation.

“He probably left already,” or, “We must have missed him,” were familiar remarks.

But low and behold, I suddenly heard Bob say, “Hey, that's him!” as he motioned toward the glass door which opened into the dining room. I looked over and there he was, Paul in a tuxedo (or something close to it; he was quite well dressed), leaving the dining room and walking away from us down a path that led-

“That goes to the bathrooms!” Mike said. “Yeah, let's get up and wait for when he comes back out again!” said someone else. We were all nervous wrecks. He had been about twenty feet from us and was now gone from sight. It was up to us to determine what happened next.

“C'mon,” various members of the group said, and everyone stood up and more or less started ambling over to the glass door that led to the dining room. “He'll have to come back in this way!” somebody reasoned.

“What are we going to say?” I remember asking. Before you know it, guess who was coming back, walking right toward us? “There he is!” one of the guys said. “Go, go!”

I felt several hands push me ever so slightly, as if I had been nominated to be the “Most Embarrassed Person in the World.” I took a couple of steps forward just as Paul reached for the door to return into the dining room.

“Uh, hi Paul, excuse me, we're a group from the United States and we're going to be recording at EMI and just wondered if you had a second to-”

“Oh, the U.S., great!” said Paul.

We collectively almost died. Paul let go of the doorknob and leaned back against the glass wall.

“What part of the States are you from?”

We all moved closer, including the cowards in back of me who were now vying for “Best Place to Stand Closest to Paul.”

I asked, “Paul, I was wondering if you remembered how you guys got the guitar sound in 'Nowhere Man'?”

“Ah yeah, well I think that was a Grestch, and they just put a lot of top on it (meaning treble) on the record.”

Personally, I used a Grestch and knew that there was no way in the world it was a Grestch on the record. But I wasn't about to say anything! Paul made pleasant small talk and asked how we liked it “over here,” etc. We could really hardly believe it was all happening, as you might suppose. All of a sudden, our then-bass player, Nolan, reached over my shoulder with one of our band's business cards and handed it to Paul.

“Paul I know this is a lot to ask, but could you sign this?” Nolan asked.

(Feigning great pain), “Oh yeah....it's a lot to ask,” and laughed. “Got a pen?”

Somehow, someone came up with a pen. On our cards, it said “The Aerovons. Smashing British Sound”

Paul looked at the card and smiled, “Ah...smashing British sound, eh?” and we all laughed. He handed the card back to Nolan and said, “Can I have one?” referring to our cards. Someone gave Paul another card and he pocketed it.

We spoke for a few more minutes, about what I cannot remember. I was frankly so in awe that I was beside myself. It was like standing in front of royalty. He was so well dressed and so pleasant. Everything you would hope meeting an idol would be like.

Finally, we thanked him profusely, he wished us much luck, and he shot back through the glass door into the dining room. We walked on air back to our table and took a seat. Mom was so happy for us. We all were just giddy, when mom said something like, “Well that will really be something to add to our scrapbook!” meaning the autograph.

“Hey, no way! That's my autograph. I'm not giving that to anyone. I was the one who asked for it!” Nolan remarked. Like the air coming out of a hundred birthday balloons, we all grew silent, as we realized the truth: there were many Aerovons, but only one autograph of Paul's.

I was particularly angry, as I felt like Nolan wouldn't even have been here to get the opportunity to get the autograph had it not been for my mother getting us signed and obtaining the financial backing to fly us all over there. But I did understand how Nolan felt, as I would have most likely been of the same sentiment. Everyone was a bit bummed, so I finally reached over and asked for three more Aerovons’ band cards. I grabbed them and said, “Okay, I'll just tell him what happened and see what he does. All he can do is say ‘no’.”

We waited and waited, until finally, after about a half an hour, the door opened and Paul came out, accompanied by Jane Asher, also dressed to the hilt, in a beautiful long gown. This must have been one of their last outings, as shortly thereafter Paul and Jane split. I recognized her immediately as I had always thought Asher was the perfect British beauty.

I walked quickly up to him fueled, no doubt, by frustration over Nolan's stance, and said, “Excuse me again, Paul. I'm so sorry, but as soon as we sat down, our bass player got a little possessive with the one autograph you gave us and-”

“Okay, it's alright, you've got a pen?”

I handed Paul the additional band cards and a pen. He bent down so he could write on one knee, quickly scratching his name on the additional cards. Jane just stood, patiently gazing around the room, as if this happened all the time.

“I'm really sorry and I can't thank you enough. No one's going to believe us when we get home.”

“Ah, but now you've got this!” he said as he smiled and handed back the cards. I didn't know what to say so I just smiled back. He stood up, turned, and then was gone.

Decades later, I spoke with Nolan and asked him if he still had the autograph. “Oh no, I gave that away to someone who really appreciated it,” he said.

Takes all kinds, I guess.

My autograph hangs on my wall to this day. I just glanced over to it as I wrote this. It's framed and simply says “Paul McCartney.” On the frame it says “Speakeasy, 1968.” The other members still have theirs as well, save for Nolan.

This entire occurrence gave me a look at Paul the human being. He really understood the predicament I was in and took the time to save a dream for us. I will always respect him for his kindness and patience that night. After all, it was our one and only chance to ever meet a Beatle.

Or so we thought....

Tom Hartman

(To be continued…”Meeting George”)

"Paul McCartney"
"Speakeasy Club • London • 1968"
A big 'thank you' to Tom for not only sharing this story, but for all of the work he put into not leaving out a single detail. It really makes the story come alive when nothing is left out. We owe Tom a great deal for his generosity!

Update: Continue with Part 3 of 5.

---

The Aerovons - Resurrection (1969)

Loading the ABLYAM player...(Might not work on mobile devices)

Lyrics:

Sunday drives and Ferris wheels
Something that was something real
Now Sunday’s really Monday in disguise

Floating down a stream of smiles
You take some time to stop a while
Resurrecting every thought and mile

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

Paper cups and love affairs
Gliding through the open air
Gently hiding off from every care

Ocean skies with rainbow kites
Go soaring on from mind to mind
Tomorrow and tomorrow alter time

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

I like what I see today
‘til every runs the other way
And no one hears a word they seem to say

Floating down a stream of smiles
Now take some time to stop a while
Resurrecting every thought and mile

And I reach out for you
In the sun of our love
We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

We’re gonna bring it back
We’re gonna bring it back

And I reach out for you
And I reach out for you
Reach out for you…

The Aerovons - The Train (1969)

Today starts off a week-long journey back in time that will include five exclusive stories from The Aerovons' lead man, Tom Hartman. Never before has A Bit Like You And Me had an individual provide us with so much content that we needed an entire week to dedicate to the tales being told. Starting today and lasting until Friday, you'll be reading the first-hand accounts of Tom Hartman, his band, and their experiences with some of rock history's greatest legends. Sit back and relax, because you're in for a ride.

The song heard below Tom's story is from a single that the band released in 1969. It was featured as the A-Side and was complimented by the B-Side, "Song for Jane." The song was also added to the the 2003 release of Resurrection, a lost album recorded in 1969 by the band.

---

A Special Edition post with Tom Hartman from The Aerovons!
Part 1 of 5
If you'd like the summarized artist biography for The Aerovons, you can find it at our previous post. Once there, you'll also be able to hear their great song, "World of You," from 1969. But make sure that if you do head over there, that you find your way back here, because this is something you don't want to miss.

Meeting The Who
(or, "Did the Guy Who Sang 'My Generation' Just Walk My Dog?")
Well...meeting some of The Who more precisely. This was a huge moment for me in my youth; a night to remember. I thought I'd share it with fellow Who fans.

August 25, 1967, Kiel Opera House, St. Louis, Missouri.

The Who have come to my town, to open for Herman's Hermits, with the Blues Magoos opening the whole show.

I had been a Who fan since the My Generation album, and my band played several of their songs in our sets. They were pretty unknown in the United States at the time, but for us, it was going to be exciting to see them live. The first time I ever heard them was thanks to a high school friend and great guitarist named James Stonebraker, who pulled out a British import album of theirs once when I went to his home. Yep, that's how cool he was...he had a Britishi> album at his house. I only knew them from "I Can't Explain," but when I heard the explosive sounds of Pete's power chords on the album, along with the great harmonies, I was just totally knocked out. And I, of course, was the Beatles fan of all Beatles fans. But this music was quite welcome to my ears!

Our band attended the show with great anticipation. We were known around town for doing this "funny stuttering song," as the kids called it, ("My Generation") on our gigs and we were hopeful to hear them play it live. The audience was talking and making noise when, all of a sudden from behind the curtain, we heard the loud jangle of the opening to "Substitute;" then, the curtains opened and there they were! Roger whipped the microphone around like a lasso and Pete was beside himself, jumping and doing splits, while Keith threw his sticks up high in the air and caught them just in time for the next drum fill. It was like watching a great sounding circus act! They were thunderously loud and I can't imagine how the Herman's Hermits fans dealt with it, but we were thrilled.

Now, one of the guys in our group had heard that they would be staying at the Holiday Inn in downtown St. Louis; so, my mother, who had driven us there and dropped us off, was talked into driving by there on the way home when she came to pick us up. Also aboard was a new German Shepherd we had taken in as a pet from a family that couldn't keep him anymore.

We parked at the Holiday Inn and mom waited in the car as myself and my three band members got out and walked into the lobby with our drummer going up to the receptionist and talking for a minute. The rest of us gazed into the restaurant area to see if we saw The Who or any related Who crew.

No luck.

As I remember, I don't think the hotel confirmed that they were even there. So, nice try. We looked around again for a few minutes and then went back to the our van. We went up to the driver's side window and told mom we struck out. "Okay. Well, wait here." She got out and went in to the Holiday Inn by herself. We had parked in the back of the hotel where there were only a few cars and a walkway that led up to the hotel. We stood outside the van and talked about the show. We felt so close but so far, knowing they were in the building somewhere! All of sudden, we heard some chatter and looked around. Down the walk a bit, coming from the hotel entrance, came my mom with Roger Daltrey and Keith Moon, one on either side of her.

"Well look who I found!" she laughed. We were just stunned.

"Oh my," "Whoa," and other collective comments were uttered. Roger and Keith walked right up to us and shook hands. We talked about the show, they wanted to know what we thought, etc, and we spoke about how much we loved their music. "Are you really the fastest 19 year old drummer in the world?" I smiled and asked Keith. That credit had been listed on the liner notes of one of their recent albums. "No, 20!" he laughed. I told Roger I really loved "Whiskey Man" and he said "Nah, nah, too Beatle-y," and smiled. I also asked Roger about the sound of their guitars and how they held out those big chords for so long (I was a recording novice at the time). "Have you been in the studio yet?" he asked.

"No, not yet."

"Well, when you get in there you'll hear about this thing called "compression;" it helps the guitars a lot. Have you heard our new single?"

"No..." I replied.

"Oh yeah, it's not out here yet. Well, in about ten days it should be out here; listen to that and you'll hear a lot of compression."
(He was referring to "I Can See For Miles")

Then, all of sudden, Roger saw our German Shepherd looking through the van window.

"Wow, great! A dog!" He scampered over to the van, slid the door open, and then grabbed the leash. "Love dogs!" he said. Out came the dog and off went Roger over to a grass section of the lot and they were having a ball. We were just as if in a dream; it was so surreal. The lead singer of The Who is walking our dog, for heaven's sake.

"How do you afford to break all your stuff every night?" I asked Keith.

"Well, we don't break as much as it looks like. And I have a great deal with Premier and they give me drums. I really just break some heads and maybe crack a cymbal."

After a few more minutes, Keith said, "Well there's a great horror movie coming on and I have to go catch it, so good luck to you guys!" We all gave him pictures of our band to sign, and he did, and off he went. Roger finally came back with the dog and put him in the van, walked over, and talked for a few more minutes. "What are you guys saying in that part of "Pictures of Lily," where it says, "She's been dead since...something or other?" I asked. They slur it on the record and back then it wasn't very clear on record players.

"Since 1929."

I told him we loved that tune, as well. He was very gracious and not at all the typical "lead singer in a famous rock band." Very down to earth! Finally, a man came out and said, "Are you with The Who?" and Roger nodded.

"Well your manager wants you upstairs right away."

"Okay, well gotta go," said Roger.

He, too, signed the back of our band picture for us. Roger wrote, "Lots of Luck from The Who," while Keith penned, "Keep It Up in the Air."

The ride home was a blur. What a night for a bunch of young Who fans! We asked Mom how she did it and she said, "I found out they were in the dining area and I just walked up to them and told them about you guys being big fans, waiting right outside, and how much it would mean to you all. They said 'Okay mum, let's go see them.'"

My mother was pretty amazing, as were The Who. In time, I would have even more remarkable experiences, but this was seemingly the beginning of a tremendous amount of luck I would be blessed with during my Aerovons days!

Hope you'll join me as the experiences grow even wilder, far away on the other side of the ocean.

Tom Hartman

"Lots of luck from The Who, Roger Daltry" and "Keep it up in the air, Keith Moon"
Update: Continue with Part 2 of 5.

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The Aerovons - The Train (1969)

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Lyrics:

I remember when you went away, “Goodbye…”
Broken hearted words were left and right
I remember all the things you said that night
Slightly parted memories in the darkened sky

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

Now you say you’re coming back to try again
I ask the man in uniform
They don’t know where you been
I remember all the times you said you’d go
Even though you’re coming back
You’re coming back too slow

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

I remember when you went away, “Goodbye…”
Broken hearted words were left and right inside
I remember all the times you said you’d go
Even though you’re coming back
You’re coming back too slow

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

I remember all the times you said you’d go

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been gone?
I’ve waited for you
You’re long overdue

How long has the train been…

The Aerovons - World of You (1969)

In 1966, five high-school students from St. Louis, Missouri formed a band. In 1967, after releasing a demo, they rejected an offer from Capitol Records to record an album in Los Angeles. They were hoping to record at Abbey Road Studios, where their idols The Beatles worked. In 1968, the group flew to London and got their wish, receiving offers from both EMI (who they signed with) and Decca. By 1969, the group had lost two members, but began recording the album as a three-piece act. EMI, concerned about the group’s stability, canceled the release of the album indefinitely. Parlophone released two of their singles, but more fortunately for us, the album was released in its entirety by RPM in 2003.

Their long unreleased album, titled Resurrection, was shelved for nearly forty years before finally being released on CD by RPM. Due to the group’s infatuation with The Beatles, it comes as no surprise that their music sounded a lot like The Beatles’ late ‘60s work. This song, probably the best by the group, was the first track on Resurrection.

[Update: Tom Hartman of The Aerovons gave A Bit Like You And Me five exclusive stories! To read them, you can visit our Exclusive Stories page or start with the first story. Enjoy!]



The Aerovons - World of You (1969)

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Lyrics:

It’s a new world of you
And I’m just a stranger here
It’s a new thing to do
And I’m being quite sincere

Though I know I’m far from home
I’m going to say
“til tomorrow
Tomorrow”

Without cost or obligation
I will turn my resignation
In to you
Without sorrow

No reason to be blue

It’s a new world of you
And I’m just a stranger here
It’s a new thing to do
And I’m being quite sincere

There were no maps
Or drawn directions
And your potions for protection
Leading my path

There’ll be no easy road returning
To that world of rapid yearning
That I’ve known
Never learning

And you can stay, too

It’s a new world of you
And I’m just a stranger here
It’s a new thing to do
And I’m being quite sincere